Sister, Dear
by GavrocheDiedForYourSins
Summary: I was thinking the other day...what if Cato isn't just protective of Clove because they're boyfriend and girlfriend? This is what happens when I choose to put my fangirl lunacy into words. Warning: the plot will be different from the books.
1. 1 Knives and Prejudice

**Chapter One - Knives and Prejudice**

"Hey, Alodie!" Cato called to a scowling girl holding a spear, "Do you know where Clove is?"

"How should I know? Probably busy hiding in some shadowy corner and cutting herself. Again." she replied, punctuating her words with lunges at the dummy she was practicing with.

"Shut up!" he yelled, racing off to check the weapons cupboard, "My sister _doesn't cut_!"

He reached the door to the cupboard on the other side of the room, gently nudging it open and peering inside. Sure enough, Clove was curled up in a foetal position under the knife rack, crying her eyes out.

"Oh, Clove..." he muttered, sitting down next to her and carefully pulling a bruised and bloody arm away from her face, "You promised me that you would stand up to them today."

"I tried, Cato, I really tried," she sobbed, pushing herself into a sitting position, "But they just laughed at me! They said that if I ever talked back to them again, they'd rip my throat out!" she buried her face in her hands again, gratefully crawling into her brother's open arms.

For as long as she could remember, Clove hadn't gone a day without someone adding to her vast collection of injuries; her parents, the other students at the training centre, the trainers, drunken people on the street. District 2 wasn't a safe place for a girl like Clove - being short, dark haired, freckled, overly emotional and not particularly strong made her exactly the kind of person perfectly designed to be ostracised by the other Careers. Today, as it had been since the first day she had set foot in the centre, she had been attacked by the clique of the most popular and highly acclaimed stereotypical Career girls in her class. For some reason that she had yet to fathom, they seemed intent on making the little 15-year-old's life a living Hell.

"Come on." Cato sighed, helping his little sister to her feet, "Let's go find some bandages, before you get an infection."

They walked (at least, Cato walked - Clove sort of limped) up to the medical supplies storeroom on the 3rd floor, where Cato helped her to cover up the deep cuts that littered her limbs and torso. There wasn't much that could be done for the ones on her face, but she had managed to protect her head well enough that they were mainly just scratches.

"I'm going to look a mess at the reaping tomorrow." she muttered, brushing dried blood from her hair with her fingers, "What would the Capitol think of me if I arrived covered in scars?"

"They'd sponsor you," he smiled reassuringly, "Because battle scars are a sure-fire way of making an impression."

Suddenly, their conversation was interrupted by the clanging of a bell, signalling to the students of the centre that it was time to pack up and go home.

* * *

Clove and Cato arrived home to (as they did on most evenings) an empty house. Their mother spent most of her time working in the quarry - the pitifully small wages she received meant that, even when she worked for extra shifts practically every day, they barely had enough to live on. Their father, of course, was probably feebly attempting to impress the womenfolk of the bar he frequented at this time of day.

Today was different to usual, however, in that a scribbled note had been left for them on the rickety kitchen table.

_Children,_  
_Your mother has lost her job at the quarry. We no longer have the money to feed you both. One of you is going to have to volunteer for the Games tomorrow, or you're both out on the street. There's still half a rabbit in the pantry, so if one of you figures out how to make it edible, you can have that for dinner._

Clove turned to look at her brother. His expression gave away exactly what he was planning, making her face drain of what little colour it had. "No." she whispered, "Don't you _dare_, Cato! You _can't_!"

"I have to, Clove! What other option do we have?"

"I'll volunteer! Without you here, those girls would kill me anywa-"

"Clove!" he cried, pulling her into his arms, "Not in a million years am I letting my little sister compete in the Hunger Games. Especially not after six years ago, when-"

"Cato, don't! Don't say it!" Clove whimpered. She didn't need reminding of the 68th Hunger Games, in which their cousin Mnemosyne had been literally stabbed in the back by her allies. She thought, briefly, of all the Careers in her class desperate to enter the games, for the glory, the honour. She knew better than to anticipate murder with baited breath. It's all fun and games until somebody loses a cousin.

"Exactly. Six years ago, I promised myself that I would make sure I never had to watch that happen to you. I'm volunteering tomorrow, and nothing you say will change my mind. I just love you too much."

"But...but _why_, Cato?" she sobbed, backing away, "Why can't you just hate me like everyone else? You're strong; you look like you're supposed to be from District 2...you could have _anybody_ in this godforsaken hellhole completely dependent on you! But you're stuck here with me: the little freak! The pathetic runt! I should have died at birth, like everyone expected me to! Then, at least, I wouldn't ruin the life of the only person I care about!"

"Clove, no! I-" Cato began, but it was too late; she was out the door in a second. Away to hide in one of the many caves in the abandoned quarry on the edge of the district, no doubt.

All Cato could do was cook the leftover rabbit and hope that his sister could, someday, forgive him for protecting her.


	2. 2 Clove's Series of Unfortunate Events

**Chapter Two - Clove's Series of Unfortunate Events**

Clove stared through the teeming crowds to her brother, tears running silently down her face. So fixated was she upon making sure she committed every last detail of his face to memory before it was too late that she hardly heard their district's escort, Nyx Neptunine, read out the traditional preach of the Capitol's selfless plight to save the districts from their inherent savagery. She didn't acknowledge anything else around her until the strangely perky woman reached into the girl's glass sphere, pulled out a scrap of paper and yelled: "Clove Hrocby!"

Clove's entire world went silent. She could see the movement of gossiping lips, the schadenfreudic giggling of those who despised her and (worst of all) Cato's expression of utmost horror, but she couldn't hear what was being said of her. It didn't seem important anymore. When she didn't move away from the crowd, the impatient peacekeepers escorted her to the steps of the Hall of Justice and she stood quietly, facing her abhorred district for what she knew would be the last time.

Cato could barely comprehend what he was seeing. His vulnerable little sister, dragged up to the sacrificial altar like a lamb marked for slaughter from District 10. What would he give to be able to volunteer for her? He stared fixatedly into her terrified eyes, knowing full well that he was the only person in Panem who would even consider such a thing. Nobody would offer themselves in her place. They wanted to see her suffer. Well, he decided, if he couldn't go in her stead, he could go with her, to make sure she won. That was why, when Nyx had called out the name of the male tribute (a well-built 18-year-old, who towered over Clove with a twisted smirk on his broad, arrogant mouth), he stepped forward.

"I volunteer!" he yelled, pushing his way through the crowd, "I volunteer as tribute!"

Cato half-jogged to the position on the stage that had just been vacated by the unknown Career boy, trying not to shudder at the knowledge that he would soon have to die. _It's for Clove_, he told himself,_ you need to do this to protect Clove_.

"Cato." he muttered to Nyx, answereing her unasked question, "Cato Hrocby."

"So, District 2," Nyx smiled to the crowd, "It is my honour to announce that your tributes for the 74th annual Hunger Games are Clove and Cato Hrocby!"

The peacekeepers ushered them inside. "You have one hour for visitors." the head peacekeeper snarled, shoving them towards their seperate waiting rooms, "Not a minute more."

Clove sat forlornly on an ornately carved wooden chair, trying in vain to stem the copious flow of tears dripping down her face. She knew that she wouldn't get any visitors; the only person who would want to say goodbye to her would have ample oppertunity to do so in the days to come.

She was surprised, therefore, when the large door was pushed ajar to allow someone entrance.

"Oh." she sighed, upon seeing who had come to wave her off, "Awendela. Come to gloat, I take it?"

Awendela Chenoa was one of the most popular girls in the district, with her perfect strawberry blonde hair, clear, tanned skin and complete physical perfection, and she loved nothing better than throwing Clove around like a ragdoll.

"Now, now, little weakling," she purred, "Is that the proper way in which to address your superiors?"

Clove growled. Awendela might usually rip up her flesh as if it was made of paper, but she didn't have her posse with her to pin her victim to the wall or her array of weaponry with which to do it, which gave Clove a new lease of bravery. "My brother and I are about to be murdered on national television. Did it not occur to you that now might not be the best time to patronise me, Chenoa?"

"Don't worry, maggot, a useless waste of space like you doesn't have to wait long. You'll be dead before the end of the bloodbath. And your stupid brother along with y-"

That was the point at which Clove lunged for her throat. She realised as soon as they began to fight, however, that she should have known better than to take on a girl twice as strong as her in a situation where agility and speed counted for nothing - she was losing. Finally, Awendela grabbed her by the throat and flung her at the stone mantlepiece.

"Have fun in the arena, Mutt-face." she scoffed, walking out and leaving Clove in a crumpled heap on the floor, clutching her bleeding forehead in pain.

* * *

"Clove?" Cato called, knocking on her room's locked door as the train pulled them through the barren land on the edge of District 2, "Clove, please open up! Nyx says I'm not allowed to break the door down, so if you don't let me in and I have to shoulder barge it, she'll hate me forever!"

The lock clicked open and Cato pushed his way in. "Clove," he whispered, sitting next to her on her bed and gently touching her face, "How did you get that cut? It wasn't there this morning."

Clove whimpered, reflexively covering the bloody gash above her eye with her hands. "Oh, that? I...tripped, and banged my head."

"Clove, I've known you for 15 years. Do you really think I can't tell when you're lying through your teeth?"

"I can hope, Cato. A girl can dream."

Cato sighed and rolled his eyes. "But I don't have a prayer of getting a straight answer out of you, do I?"

"Hey!" yelled a voice from the corridor, "You two planning on coming out of there at any point? Neptunine commands your presence at the afternoon tea table."

Grudgingly, Cato and Clove exited their brief moment of privacy and met Clove's mentor, Discordia Andraste. She gave them an appraising stare, picking up on Clove's uncontrollable trembling. "Nervous, are we? Well, that's only to be expected, I guess. Don't worry 'bout it, hon. Even the most Career-ish tributes start getting a few butterflies around this point in the process. You'll be fine. Probably."

"Thanks. I'll try to remember that."

* * *

"I mean, really!" Nyx flustered, "I have _nothing _to work with here! What kind of District 2 girl has _freckles_ and _brown hair_! And such small muscles..."

Clove watched her ramble with a kind of morbid fascination. She had never met anybody so uninhibited by social etiquette before!

"...I've never seen anything like it before! And it's terribly bad in terms of sponsors for a Career tribute not to have volunteered...I can't think what to do with you! And that expression of yours: you look like a timid little kitten! That is _not _the proper demeanor for a Career, young lady!"

"Oh, give the kid a break, Nyxey." chuckled Cato's mentor, Magnus Caelin, "It's not her fault she's a sin against the very nature of District 2."

"I'm sitting right here, y'know..." Clove muttered absentmindedly, "And, in any case, I think we're nearly at the Capitol station."

Nyx shrieked, running to the window and staring at the fast-approaching platform. "Quick!" she squeaked at Cato and Clove, "Go and look photogenic!"

Clove gulped. There was no running away from it now - she was in the Capitol of Panem, where she would be monitored day and night by a swarm of cameras, from the moment she steps out of the train, right up until her impending murder.

* * *

**A/N: **Sorry this took so long to write! I was suffering with a severe case of writer's block and procrastination!

By the way, I just thought I'd mention that most of the OCs or unnamed characters from the book in this story have real names, which correspond to their role and/or personality (eg. Discordia Andraste = War Victory). Although a couple of them just have names that I think suit them in one way or another, or are just random but fun. (eg. Awendela Chenoa = Morning Dove. Which, incidently, is Elvis Presley's great-great-great-grandmother. Yay for pointless trivia!)


	3. 3 Vanity Affairs

**Chapter Three - Vanity Affairs**

"I knew it." grimaced a member of Clove's prep team, upon her arrival at the Remake Centre, looking her up and down as if she were a rotting lump of meat, "We should have asked to do the District 3 girl this year. There isn't enough make-up in all of Panem to hide all those nasty cuts and bruises...and as for all those freckles...and the skin tone...and the hair..." he trailed off.

"I don't suppose," muttered the woman to his left, "We could just cover the big gash on her face, and hope that her outfit has long sleeves?"

"It's a thought..." the woman to his right mused, "But it's too big a risk to take. The whole of Panem will be watching, so it's probably better to go for the belt and braces approach."

"My name's Clove Hrocby." Clove said, pointedly, "It's nice to meet you."

The prep team didn't appear to notice her attempt at a civil conversation, however, and began covering her in all manner of concealers. After half an hour of this, they decided that there was nothing more they could do for her and pushed her into her stylists office, without another word.

"So, you're the District 2 girl. Clove, isn't it?" her stylist smirked, wrapping a tape measure around her waist. Clove nodded, and she continued, "My name's Cecilia." she paused again to take some more measurements, "Did the prep team treat you well? They have a tendency to forget about how to be polite when faced with a new challenge."

Clove gave a noncommital grunt, feeling slightly dizzy from the fumes of Cecilia's perfume.

"So, I've got half an hour to dress you up and get you down to the chariots, so we'd better get started. Can you stand up in heels?"

"What? I...I can't say I've ever tried...but I guess, if I'm just standing still, I can probably manage it."

"Hmm...never worn heels? Well, I must say, it's a different world in the districts! Here, try these on." Cecilia handed her a pair of incredibly high-heeled shoes. Clove wobbled precariously for a moment, just managing to catch herself on the table holding Cecilia's sewing machine. "I mean, really," Cecilia tutted, "15 years old and can't even walk on 6 inches! I suppose it'll do - you can always hold on to the side of the chariot if you think you're about to fall off. Now, stand here and put your arms up."

Clove did as she was told, closing her eyes as she felt her already small waist contorted with a stiff corset-like garment. When, after several minutes of being forced into clothing that tested her ability to hold her breath to it's furthest limits, she opened them again, Cecilia had shoved a full-length mirror in front of her. She was wearing what looked like an ancient gladiator costume, with bronze feather-like decorations down the front and a golden winged helmet.

"There!" Cecilia grinned, evidently pleased with herself, "The helmet doesn't _quite _match as well as I hoped - I was expecting you'd be blonde, you see - but the overall effect works well enough."

Clove wasn't really sure what to think. "What's this got to do with masonery?" she asked.

"Isn't it obvious, dear? Ancient Rome was said to have some of the best architecture on the planet, such as the gladitorial arenas, which were made out of _stone_!"

"I see." Clove nodded, deciding not to give any further comment.

"Come on, pet. I'll show you where the chariots are."

Cecilia led Clove towards a glass lift at the end of the corridor (stopping every few seconds to help the girl balance in her ridiculous shoes) and pressed the button marked 'Warehouse'.

After a moment or two, the lift slammed to a halt and the doors slid open, revealing a huge room, holding 12 gleaming chariots, each harnessed to a pair of obsidion black shire horses. Suddenly feeling very self-concious, due to the ever-increasing amount of tributes trickling into the chamber, she made an effort to look as intimidating as possible, given that she was struggling not to topple over, and hurried to where her brother was standing, by a chariot emblazened with a large '2'.

"You look nice." he smiled, evidently uncomfortable in his heavy metallic armour.

Clove grimaced, grabbing the chariot for balance. "I can't walk in these, Cato. Are these the sort of shoes that people from the Capitol wear on a regular basis?"

"It's what Nyx Neptunine wears. Don't worry; as long as you don't fall off, you'll be fine."

"I s'pose you're...oh, God! What if I_ do _fall off? I'll be trampled to death by 20 massive horses!" she started hyperventilating, clutching Cato's arm for support.

"You'll be fine!" he reiterated, "And if you do start to fall, I'll catch you."

"Promise?"

"I promise, Clove."

When a voice over the intercom announced that they had 30 seconds before the parade began, he lifted his little sister into the chariot and put a protective arm around her waste.

"Ready to face Panem?" she asked.

"Not really, but we don't seem to have a choice in the matter, do we?"

The colossal doors swung open, revealing hoardes of screaming Capitol citizens, and they were off. Between the eye-catching pink sported by the District 1 tributes and the frenzy of excitement created by someone behind them (Clove didn't dare turn around to see who, for fear of overbalancing), nobody seemed to notice her. _Excellent_, she smiled, _the Capitol idiots have got something else to gawp at, instead of the little dark-haired freak from District 2._

Clove wasn't really listening to President Snow's speech - she was too distracted by the roaring crowds surrounding her and the other tributes. Hair of every colour, from the blonde she was so used to, through to her shade of brown, extending to unnatural shades of violet and green...and the skin colours! Outside of herself and Nyx, she was sure she had never seen anybody without a gentle tan and unremmitingly flushed cheeks, but here she saw whole spectrums of complexions, even some shades she had thought were undetectable to the human eye, and a few spectators with freckles even more pronounced than her own! It was the kind of multicoloured paradise that she thought she would only ever see in her wildest daydreams. For some unfathomable reason, however, she found that she wasn't entranced as she should be, but instead felt a strange sort of vague sickening of the stomach, disgust tinged with a dull, relentless pain. Then it hit her, like one of the Capitol lifts was above her and had the ropes cut. These people - these bright, giddy, astonishing people - were not excited by the tributes themselves, but by the prospect of their imminent and gory murders. They may support their favourites now, they may even cry a bit at their deaths, but as soon as some other act of violence grabbed their attention, they would swear by the tribute who came off the better from it. The Capitol paraded themselves as harbingers of culture, humanity and prosperity, but they were no better than the girls like Awendela back home.

Clove fixed her eyes on the empty space directly infront of her as the horses turned and headed back. As soon as Clove got to her hotel room, she collapsed on her bed and went out like a light. Cato smiled at her fondly, covering her with a duvet.

"Night, Clove." he whispered, pausing on his way to his room to flick the lightswitch off.

* * *

**A/N:**This chapter was so easy to write, because it was basically a rant against the Capitol, which is what I spend most of my time doing! Complaining about capitol cities comes naturally when you're from Northern England, especially under a Tory government...I digress.

By the way, anybody who gets the reference in the title gets a free throwing knife! Hint: all the chapter titles are puns on the names of famous books. May the odds be ever in your favour!


	4. 4 Glimmer

**Chapter Four - Glimmer**

Clove looked curiously down at the knife in her hand. She had never tried to use one before, but she had three quarters of her life watching the girls from District 2 use them on her. Was there a chance that she might have picked some of it up over the years? She took aim at a target near to the back of the throwing range, on the left. Her knife hit the bullseye with a satisfying _thwump_.

"Woah!" grinned the boy from District 1, looking up from his inspection of a selection of spearheads, "Nice throw!"

Clove smiled weakly, still slightly shocked. She hadn't expected that.

"My name's Marvel. It's nice to meet you."

"I'm Clove. A pleasure, I'm sure." she replied, as politely as she could while still appearing Career-esque, "So, I imagine we'll probably have some sort of alliance...you know, if you and your district partner wouldn't mind."

"No, no, not at all. I'm sure Glimmer would love to have somebody else on board..." Marvel trailed off, looking slightly sadly towards a blonde girl attempting an obstacle course. She wasn't faring particularly well at it. After another failed attempt at scrambling under the netting, she gave up and walked over to join them.

"Hey." she sighed, her voice high-pitched and trembling, "So you're the girl from District 2. Clove, right?"

Clove nodded, lightly shaking the girl's hand. "And you're Glimmer, I take it?"

"Yes. I'm sorry to hear about you and your brother. It must be hard for y-" she interupted herself with a quiet cough.

"Are you okay, Glims?" Marvel asked, concern spreading across his face.

She nodded, waving him away. "I'm fine, Marv. Just give me a sec."

Clove threw another knife, in a futile attempt to break the tension. Another direct hit. How was she so good at this?

After several minutes of uncomfortable small talk, Marvel decided to go and ask Cato (who was, of course, over by the rack of swords in the corner) about the proposed alliance.

"Marv's such a caring friend," Glimmer sighed, more to herself than to Clove, "But he can get a touch over-protective at times, bless him. He really didn't have to volunteer for this just because I did."

"I know the feeling." Clove muttered darkly.

Glimmer, who wasn't really listening and had gone off into a little world of her own, pressed on with a sudden and unprompted soliloquy. "I didn't _want_ to volunteer, you see, but I had to, because my family claimed I had dishonoured them...and nothing brings more honour to a family than the Games, right?" she paused for a moment, absent-mindedly rubbing her abdomen. "It started about a month before the reaping. I had gone to the local doctor, because I thought something was wrong with me. Well, turned out I'm...I'm pregnant. My parents were livid when they found out. Th-they screamed at me, told me that nobody should have to admit that their 16-year-old daughter is having a child out of wedlock. I guess my being a tribute shut them up - they looked like they regretted saying all that stuff when they came to say goodbye. Worst part is, I don't even know who the father is. He was just this boy I met one night. He seemed nice, polite...please don't judge me too harshly, Clove - I had no intention of it going so far, it just...happened. Marvel's pretty much the only person who hasn't avoided me like I have leprosy since. We've been best friends since we were kids, y'know..."

Clove had been thrown slightly off-guard by this monologue. Was it normal for girls to divulge their darkest traumas upon first meeting? "A...a baby? Wow, that's...that's really..."

"Disgusting? Horrifying? Don't worry, I've heard it all about this little _thing_." she patted the tiny bump affectionately. "I feel kind of bad for it, really. Going to die with me before it's even born. Shame, really."

"Glimmer, don't say that! You've just as much chance as the rest of us!"

"I'm pregnant, Clove," she sighed, "And I wasn't all _that _good at fighting to begin with...and I don't imagine I'll be particularly adept at wilderness survival - I have a deep-set hatred of insects, you see. I can be as calm and collected as anything, but the moment I see a wasp..." she flapped her arms around to indicate panic.

Clove glanced towards Cato and Marvel. They appeared to have gotten into a conversation (or, more accurately, an argument) with the tributes from District 12. Even from the other side of the room, Clove could see the all-too-familiar spark of rage in her brother's eyes.

"Excuse me a moment, Glimmer!" she called behind her, already half-way towards the weights station that the four of them were standing by.

"Oh yeah?" she heard Cato snarl, "Just because_ I_ don't feel the need to set myself on _fire _when I want to prove someth-"

"Leave it, Cato!" she said, skidding to a halt by a tall climbing frame, "They're not worth it!"

Cato looked for a second as if he was about to kill someone, then he sighed irritably and looked at his sister. "Can't I _please_ rip their arms off? Just this once?"

The boy from 12 looked worried, but Clove smiled. The fury had drained from her brother's eyes - he was just teasing now. "No," she giggled, "They'll need their arms for waving to the camera - seems to be the only thing they're any good at."

"At least _I'm _not the world's only freckly Career!" the girl whispered to her district partner, under the assumption that Clove wouldn't hear her. Unfortunately for her, Clove's hearing was impeccable, and she didn't take kindly to people who insulted her on account of her freckles - especially now she had discovered her prowess with the knife.

"Watch it, 12!" she hissed, trying to make herself seem big and imposing, despite the fact that 12 was about 3 inches taller than her, "A mouth that big will make it easy to shove a knife down your throat, you know!" she turned on her heel and stalked off.

"And _that,_" Cato smirked at the tributes from 12, "Is why nobody messes with my sister!"

The 12 girl wasted no time in antagonizing the rest of the Careers. At the plantlife station, she announced that the seaweed she was inspecting smelled uncannily like Scylla, the standoffish girl from District 4. When she was trying to teach the boy from her district how to make a snare, she was heard to say that Marvel would probably be stupid enough to get caught in one. At dinner, she accused Glimmer of being _fat_.

"I mean, who _does _that?" Clove yelled to nobody in particular, throwing herself onto her bed later that evening while Cato looked on in concern, "How much of an _idiot _do you have to be to go around systemtically insulting the Careers - the _Careers_, mark you - so close to the Hunger Games?" she shouted obscenities into her pillow and pulled off the jacket she'd been wearing all day.

"Clove!" Cato cried, leaping to his feet, "Your arms! What happened to your arms?"

Clove looked at her outstretched arms and screamed so loudly that Discordia Andraste bolted into the room to see who had been shot.

"What's the matter?" she blurted, staring at them in panic.

"My scars are gone!" Clove whimpered, "The prep team's got rid of my scars!"

"Oh." Discordia sighed, both relieved and exhasperated, "It sounded as though you were being attacked by a homicidal maniac." she snorted and flounced out of the room.

"Why are you upset, Clove?" Cato asked, putting a comforting arm around her shoulders, "I would have thought you'd be overjoyed not to have those cuts on you."

"So would I," she muttered, "But _this_? It just feels like the Capitol trying to dehumanise me."

"That's exactly what they're trying to do. We're the Careers, remember - we're the villains of their little production. They don't want to see the poor girl with the scars, they want to see the seemingly invincible assasin. They've always assigned roles to the tributes - usually, the lower districts are just the extras, but this year, the 12 girl is their heroine. We are the monsters she must defeat to get a happy ending."

"That's all I am? The Sandstone Witch?"

Cato smiled at the reference. Petronelle and the Sandstone Witch was a popular folk story from their district. The Sandstone Witch was the beautiful but bitter harpy who tricked Petronelle into going into the viscious dragon's cave, because she was jealous of her for being loved by the townspeople, while the Witch was shunned. Unfortunately, the dragon took pity on the girl because she was just too damn _nice _to be eaten and killed the terrified and defenseless Witch instead.

"I never said that." he grinned, "I just said that's who they _want _you to be. Anyway, the Sandstone Witch was always your favourite character. I'm sure the people of the Capitol can be convinced to see her the same way."

"They'd never listen; they're too wrapped up in fairy tales to see the tragedy behind it. The Capitol have decided who is the Witch and who is Petronelle...but there's a more pressing issue to worry about."

"What's that?"

"If 12's Petronelle and I'm the Sandstone Witch, then who's going to be the dragon?"

* * *

**A/N:** The book title in the last chapter was 'Vanity Fair'. This chapter, it's Jane Austen's 'Emma'. I think it will be easier for everybody if I say what the book is in the author's note. It would be even easier to stop using book titles in my chapters, but I'm not going to do that, because I have nothing better to do than try and think of book-related puns. Please review!


	5. 5 Glimmer in Love

**Chapter 5 -**

Clove was convinced that the days in the Capitol were shorter than the ones back home. Had her time in training really expired already? Was today really the day of the individual sessions? She awoke at the crack of dawn, too nervous to sleep, and spent what seemed like a lifetime standing in the hall, waiting impatiently for everyone else to get ready.

"Clove," yawned Nyx Neptunine, dragging herself out of her room, "You're up already? Breakfast isn't for another couple of hours, you know."

"I know, but I can't sleep. Not today. I'm much too nervous."

"Nervous? About a little thing like the individual sessions? Clove Hrocby, you will _never _be a proper Career."

"Nice pep talk, Nyxey." grinned Magnus Caelin, who had apparently spent the night on the sofa with Discordia, "I'm sure the little freak's self-esteem hasn't been destroyed at all."

Discordia giggled, until she caught a glimpse of Clove's hurt expression and frowned. "Shut up, Magnus. That was a _horrible _thing to say! The poor girl's got enough to worry about, without you and Nyx insulting her."

The mentors argued playfully for a while, every so often getting interrupted by a disgruntled Nyx, and Clove saw her chance to sneak away and find Cato.

"Cato," she called, peering into his room. He was sitting on his bed, staring into space. She had seen him like this before - at Mnemosyne's funeral...when a 7-year-old Clove had been hospitalised for a month after being attacked by a group of Peacekeepers...the night before the reaping. It was a sign that he was lost in grief. "What's the matter?"

"Oh, nothing, it's just...two days. Two more days before the Games begin."

"I know, I know. Two days. But we still have the individual sessions and the interviews to get through first."

"I can barely contain my _excitement_." he grumbled bitterly, "Performing for the Gamemakers like one of the dancing bears in District 2's black market. Being interviewed by Ceaser Flickerman. Gettting torn to pieces in the Arena. Can't wait."

"Cato!" she cried, reproachful tears making her vision blurred, "Don't talk like that! You're not going to die! I won't let you!"

Cato pulled her into his arms, rocking her from side to side, the way he did when they were younger. "Shh...it's okay, Clove. We're going to be okay. All of us."

He was lying through his teeth, but Clove couldn't help but try to suspend her disbelief. She had never met anybody as kind or as friendly as Glimmer, Marvel and Scylla - she didn't know what she might do when the inevitable happened. All she could do was pray that she wouldn't be alive to see it.

* * *

Clove and Cato arrived at the training centre about 20 minutes early, so the only other tributes there were Marvel, Scylla and the girl from District 5, who Clove had nicknamed 'Scarlet'. Scarlet was extremely cunning and agile, but she had refused their offer of an alliance, on the grounds that she wasn't much of a fighter, and would probably be more of a liability than anything else.

"Glim said she'll be down in a minute." Marvel told them, "She's got into an argument with some Peacekeepers about her token."

"Really?" asked Scylla in her deep, monotonous voice, "What happened?"

"Accused of cheating. Apparently, there was a poisoned spike hidden in her ring." he snorted quietly. "She probably picked up her mum's ring by mistake when she was going to the reaping. That kind of thing is _always _happening to her."

Clove bit her lip. "But...hiding a weapon in a token...isn't that the kind of thing that gets you-"

She was interrupted by Scarlet nudging her shoulder and handing her a piece of paper. _They won't make her an Avox, _it read, _unless they can prove that she brought the ring on purpose._

Scarlet stepped back into the shadows, making sure to avoid eye-contact. This was how all Avoxes were trained to act, with painful consequences for those who forgot.

Nobody knew much about Scarlet - she wasn't in any position to tell them about herself, nor did she seem inclined to - but from what Clove could gleam from the subtle hints in the things she wrote, she had been framed for a crime and had her tounge ripped out, but was freed a few years later when the real culprit was caught. Scarlet had written them an essay the day before on how unpleasant the life of an Avox is, concluding that she wasn't planning on trying to win, but instead she would ty to stick it out as long as she could, before finding the fastest and least painful way to die she could come up with. Clove tryed to show sympathy for her plight, but she was relieved that she wouldn't have to kill her. Scarlet didn't say much (no pun intended), but when she had a point to get across, she made it eloquently and didn't mince her words. Thus, she gained their respect and partially entered into their clique.

"She'll be fine." Scylla reassured them, "Say what you like about Glimmer, but she knows how to convince people to see things her way."

As if to illustrate her point, Glimmer chose that moment to step out of the lift, looking flustered but decidedly non-Avoxed.

"So, have I missed anything?"

* * *

That evening, Glimmer and Marvel were to be found sprawled over a large, brightly coloured sofa, waiting to find out their scores. At the moment, they were watching Caesar Flickerman and Claudius Templesmith rambling on and on about trivial scraps of gossip about the Games that were circling the Capitol like vultures.

"...But we can't count _anybody _out of the running just yet!" Claudius decided, putting a comical amount of expression into his voice.

"You say that every year, Claude." Caesar countered, "I think we should let their _scores _answer this little debate!"

"Right you are, Ceasar. So now, without further ado, here are the tributes' training scores!"

Marvel leaned closer to the television with bated breath. _Marvel Sparks: 9. _Not bad, he thought, about average for a Career.

Now it was Glimmer's turn to panic. She had tried her hardest, managing to hit the centre of the target with 4 of her 5 arrows (the fifth had hit one of the outer rings, to her considerable dismay), but had it been enough? _Glimmer Diadem: 9. _Good enough.

They both relaxed, safe in the knowledge that they had done exactly as expected, and forgot to pay attention to anybody else's score. Glimmer vaguely caught a glimpse of Fire Girl and pulled herself out of her reverie just enough to hear her score. _Katniss Everdean: 11. _What?

"11 points? How did she manage that?" she asked to the world at large.

Marvel sighed. "Dunno. Probably made some kind of 'scene'. Seems to be the only thing she's good at."

"That little Mutt!" cried Glimmer's mentor, Onyx Starlight, "She'd better die a painful, drawn-out death, you two!"

Onyx was the kind of woman who was liable to break things when she was angry, which seemed to be often. That was how she had won her Games, in fact - she got mad at her allies and snapped their necks while they slept. Glimmer and Marvel decided it would be prudent, therefore, to escape to the kitchen on the pretence of getting a drink before Onyx took her anger out on someone's limbs.

"So, Glim," Marvel smiled nervously, "I was thinking, since you don't have a token anymore..."

"Yes, Marv?"

"Well, I-I..." he faultered, searching for the right words, "I was going to mention it after the reaping, when we got home, but...well, things didn't turn out quite as I expected." he bit his lip and pulled a small box out of his pocket. "Glimmer, what I'm trying to say is: if things had been different, would you have married me?"


	6. 6 Interviews With Caesar

**Chapter Six - Interviews with Caesar**

_Are you, are you coming to the tree?  
__Where they strung up a man they say murdered three._

'The Hanging Tree' was a fascinating song, from a cultural aspect at least, because everyone in Panem knew the tune, except for the Capitol. It seemed to symbolise the collective defiance of the districts, the pain and injustice they suffered and, most of all, the ever-present desire to slip from the Capitol's clutches, whether by liberation or death. For many, the words were synonymous.

_Strange things did happen here, no stranger would it be,  
__If we met up at midnight in the Hanging Tree._

Cato could hear his sister humming the ancient melody as she took her morning shower. Even when she was singing to herself absentmindedly, her voice was full of a burning passion that could only ever be found in somebody who had lived a life of suffering and pain.

_Are you, are you coming to the tree?  
Where the dead man calls out for his love to flee.  
Strange things did happen here, no stranger would it be,  
If we met up at midnight in the Hanging Tree._

He shuddered, thinking back to another time she sang this tune to herself. That fateful day, when he was 9 and she was 7...

_They had been walking home from the market together, as they had gone to get some bread and milk. It had been quite late at night. The dark alley they had to walk down to reach their street made Cato apprehensive, so Clove began to sing, to calm him down. As they took their first tentative steps into the shadowy pathway, a group of Peacekeepers from the Capitol had leapt out in front of them, with guns trained at their heads. _

_"Hold it!" the tallest one yelled, "You, girl! That's a folk song from 12! How do you know it?"_

_Of course, Cato had realised afterwards, the Capitol didn't understand. They were sure that the districts were totally cut off from each other, so how could two districts know the same music? He had found out later that the Peacekeepers in question were newcomers to District 2, having previously worked in 12._

_"I-I..." Clove stuttered, shifting closer to her brother._

_"Yes...dark hair, freckles...you're a runaway, aren't you? Straight from the Seam!"_

_Clove whimpered, tears of panic and confusion rolling down her cheeks. "No! I'm from Distr-"_

_She was cut short by a bullet through her shoulder. Her screams echoed around the dirty brickwork and she toppled backwards into a bulky Peacekeeper standing behind her, who slammed the butt of his rifle against her skull. They continued to attack her for several minutes, while Cato was pushed to the ground, helpless and afraid, until the tallest one's communicator blipped and they were summoned back to the station. Deciding that she was as good as dead already, they left her in the alleyway to suffer. Sometimes, when he was alone and all was quiet, Cato could still hear her screaming in pain._

Wait a second. That wasn't Clove screaming, that was Nyx.

"Discordia!" the escort screeched from the hall, "_What _did you just call me?"

Conflict, anger and misery. Were those the only things that the Capitol was aware of? Clove's attempted murder, the Hunger Games, whatever stupid argument Nyx Neptunine was having with Discordia now - it was all needless pain and suffering of people weaker than the Capitol.

_Are you, are you coming to the tree?  
Wear a necklace of rope side by side with me.  
Strange things did happen here, no stranger would it be,  
If we met up at midnight in the Hanging Tree._

* * *

Caesar Flickerman sighed inwardly as he walked towards the stage. Every year, 24 teenagers would tell him all about their pointless, dreary lives. Every year, they were all so sure that they could win, that they would be going home. Every year, he had to pretend to be interested.

Plastering on a fake smile, he strode into the spotlight and graciously accepted the cheers and applause from his audience.

"Tonight, ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, is the eve of the 74th annual Hunger Games!" he grinned, gesticulating towards the crowd. He continued in this manner for a while, joking and teasing at the tributes' expenses, until he felt that the viewers had been suitably warmed up. "But that's enough from me. So put your hands together for our first tribute of the night...Glimmer!"

A young woman with a voluminous pink cocktail dress strutted over to her chair, giggling and waving to the cameras. "Good evening, Caesar!"

The girl quickly got on with reciting her sob story, about how she was pregnant and engaged and all of the other things bound to get sponsors from hopeless romantics and emotional women. Caesar tried to look sympathetic, but he knew she was as good as dead from the moment he laid eyes on her. What was the point of getting attached to the doomed?

The boy from her district seemed charming enough, if a little bit stupid. He didn't have all that much to say for himself. The tributes from 2 told Caesar that they were brother and sister.

"Do you think that would present a problem for you?" he asked the girl, "You know, if it was just down to you two?"

"So...just to clarify, you're asking me if I would kill my own brother?" she asked, looking reproachful, before laughing (Caesar could tell she was faking as much as he was) and saying: "It depends how annoying he was being!"

The interviews dragged on for an age, with none of the tributes proving themselves to be worthy of Caesar's interest, until the girl from 12 skipped into the limelight. She didn't say anything of substance, but the audience seemed to like her little party trick with the burning dress. Then the boy from 12 declared his undying love for her and Caesar brought the show to a close. Finally!

Now all that was left was to let the Games begin...

* * *

**A/N: **Interview With The Vampire by Anne Rice. Thanks to everybody who's reviewed so far (broccoliwaffle, snitchstar, anon, Samehopelove and annaissocoollike)! I'll probably be able to update quickly because...IT'S THE QUEEN'S DIAMOND JUBILEE! I GET A WEEK OFF SCHOOL! YAY! *ahem* Sorry about that, I got slightly over excited with the prospect of a week away from my evil teachers. The best part is, given that I live in the North, I don't even have to pretend to be patriotic!

But, in any case, reviews are always appreciated! *hint hint* Have a nice jubilee and condolences to all of you in London who have to sit through constant attacks of monarchism!


	7. 7 Peeta and the Dead

**Chapter Seven - Peeta and the Dead**

Clove pushed open the door labled 'District 2 Female' and was surprised and slightly irritated to see her stylist, Cecilia, waiting to see her off. It's not that she didn't _like _Cecilia, it was just that she wasn't exactly the type of person she wanted to spend the last moments of her short life with. Wouldn't it have made more sense to say her goodbyes to her mentor?

"Clove." Cecilia muttered sombrely, slipping something into her hand, "Your token. You would have had it back earlier, but the Gamemakers decided to double-check everything...just in case."

Clove stared at the small object in her palm. A scrap of paper with a pressed four-leaf clover on it. Cato had found it in the woods by the quarry. He had given it to her on her first reaping. She couldn't supress her tears any longer.

"Don't cry, honey! You're gonna be okay!" Cecilia sobbed, throwing her arms around Clove's trembling shoulders. They both wept bitterly for a couple of minutes, until a voice announced that there were 30 seconds left before launching. Slowly, Clove wiped her eyes and stood on the launch pad.

"It's been an honour, Clove," sniffed Cecilia, "Being your stylist."

Clove wanted to tell her that she was a brilliant designer, that the dresses she had made were the most beautiful things she had ever set eyes upon...but it was too late. The door to the launch tube had slid shut and she felt her stomach lurch as she rocketed upwards.

_Happy Hunger Games, Clove, _she sighed to herself, _May the odds be _ever _in your favour._

* * *

The clock ticked slowly, almost mockingly. _60...59...you're about to die, Clove...54...53..52...51...and your brother with you...47...46...45...why don't you just jump on a mine?...39...38...37...It'll be over much sooner that way...32...31...30...you're going to have to run into the bloodbath, little girl, you're a __Career...24...23...22...21...20...19...you'll probably be the first to die. You'll get stabbed in the back and bleed out slowly..__.10...9...you'll live just long enough to see the pain in Cato's eyes when he realises that he's losing you...5...4...3...get ready, Mutt-face...1...BOOM!_

As soon as the starting cannon fired, Clove felt herself speeding towards the Cornucopia, almost involunterily. She could hear screams and yells around her, but she didn't care anymore. She scooped up a bag of knives, ducked to avoid a low-flying severed arm and whirled around, deftly slashing the throat of the boy from District 9. As the warm blood flowed onto her hands, she let out a slight giggle. Her first kill. It was a lot easier than she had expected...in fact, it was almost fun! No wonder the girls in 2 revelled so much in her pain!

She smiled to herself, throwing a knife into the back of another tribute without bothering to look who it was. Deciding that her allies were doing a pretty good job by themselves, she began gathering supplies from the corpses. Blood was running across the grassy earth like a dozen crimson rivers, but Clove had been covered in blood many times before - it didn't bother her in the slightest.

After the frenzy had died down, the Careers began pulling the gored bodies away from the Cornucopia because (as Glimmer so aptly summed up) it just wasn't hygenic to have dead people right next to their food. As Clove dragged the mangled District 3 girl into the bushes, she felt somebody grab her ankle. She toppled to the ground with a muffled yelp, right on the spot where the 3 girl's guts had leaked out onto the ground.

"Well, well, District 2," smirked the person who had tripped her, "Who'd have thought someone like _you _would end up dead on the first day..." the boy laughed to himself and threw a spear at her. If she hadn't rolled out of the way just in the nick of time, it would have gone straight through her right lung. As it was, it stuck into her shoulder.

"Get the Hell off me!" she screeched, leaping to her feet and pulling the spear from her arm, "Oh. Lover Boy. I should have known."

Peeta flashed her a maniacal grin, lunging at her. "You should roll around in other people's intestines more often, lucky Clover. It suits you."

"Oh, go burn yourself."

For a couple of minutes, they wrestled in the undergrowth, insulting each other and growling visciously, until Clove eventually became overpowered by Peeta's brute strength. He pinned her to the floor, smiling like a madman, holding his spear above her head.

"Now," he sneered, "I could kill you here and now, if I wanted, but then your brother wouldn't be best pleased with me, would he? I don't know much about your family, but you strike me as the type it would be a bad idea to cross. So, if you let me join your alliance, I'll let you live...for the time being. Deal?"

Clove squirmed under his grasp. Why didn't he just kill her and make a run for it? Why would he want to be in a Career alliance? Why was he threatening her when he knew full well that she could easily stab his eyes out if he wasn't sitting on her arms? After a few seconds of thought, she nodded.

"Okay, you can be in the stupid alliance. Now get off me!"

Thankfully, he obliged. "Good. Come on, the others will be wondering where you are."

Clove scrambled up and ran back to the Cornucopia, still dripping with gore. When Glimmer caught sight of her, she let out an ear-splitting scream of horror.

"Clove! What happened? Why are you covered in..."

"Glimmer, it's okay, calm down! They're not _my _innards!"

"Oh, Clove!" she cried, wrapping her arms around her ally with an unpleasant _squelch_. "I was so scared! You went over there to get rid of a body, didn't come back for half an hour and then you run out of the woods with blood all over you!" a couple of straay tears dripped off Glimmer's nose. They landed on Clove's injured shoulder, causing her to flinch with the stinging pain.

"What's that? What's wrong with your shoulder?"

"Oh...it's nothing. I'm fine."

"That is _not _nothing, Clove Hrocby, that's a serious wound! How did it h-"

She was cut off by a blood-soaked Peeta running into the clearing. If Glimmer's first scream had been piercing, it was nothing compared to the one she uttered now.

"A-a ghost! It's a ghost!"

"What's a ghost now?" asked Marvel, jogging out from inside the Cornucopia where he, Cato and Scylla had been busy setting up camp.

"I'm still alive, you idiot!" Peeta called, brushing scraps of stray internal organs onto the grass, "And I intend to remain so for at least the rest of the day, so please stop trying to aim that knife at my throat, Clove. At least let me make my point before you try to kill me."

* * *

**A/N: **Johnny and the Dead by Terry Pratchett. Apologies to anybody who doesn't approve of literature about two teenagers rolling around in other people's guts. Also, be warned, there may be some severe Peeta insulting and injury soon. He killed Foxface, so I will make him suffer for it! MWAHAHA!

Please review!


	8. 8 Of Career Bondage

**Chapter Eight - Of Career Bondage**

"Why don't we just kill him now?" asked Glimmer, nodding in the Peeta's direction, as soon as he was out of earshot.

Clove nodded in agreement. She had been against the idea of letting him into the Career pack, but his pointed glares at her shoulder wound had stopped her from voicing her opinion. She may be a murderer, but she wasn't one to go back on her word.

"Killing off an ally on the first night of the Games probably wouldn't do anything for our popularity in the Capitol." grimaced Marvel, "Especially him. He had the whole of Panem eating out of his hand in the interview."

Glimmer opened her mouth to reply, but was quickly shushed by Scylla as Peeta jogged towards them, clutching the bloody knife that Clove had grudgingly given him.

"Was she dead?" asked Cato, pointing to the clearing where they had found the idiot girl with the fire.

"No. But she is now." Peeta grinned. A distant cannon fired, as if to emphasise his statement.

Clove glowered at him. Was there ever a time when he wasn't sickeningly pleased with himself? "Okay. Another one down. We should head back to camp."

The others nodded in ascent and they trudged back towards the Cornucopia. A bitter wind began to sweep through the leaves, startling the roosting mockingjays. A flock of the creatures fluttered out of the branches of a tall oak, knocking some acorns to the floor.

After about five minutes of walking, Scylla stopped in her tracks and pricked her ears. "Can anybody else hear running water?"

Glimmer nodded. "There must be a river near here."

Curious, they followed the sound, until they came across a babbling stream. Scylla skipped gleefully along the bank, spearing the occasional fish and filling any canisters and bottles she could lay her hands on with water. It was clear that the girl from the fishing district was in her element now.

The national anthem blared through unseen speakers, silencing everything else in the forest. Clove watched the faces of the dead flicker in the night sky, wondering idly if any of them had really thought they had a chance. She couldn't say she felt _guilty_, per se, but she wished that she had known them longer, so she could have known which ones were the type that _deserved _to have her knife embedded in their skull.

Once Scylla was satisfied that they had enough water, they headed back to their camp. Peeta insisted on taking first watch, but Clove didn't trust him not to slit their throats in the night, so she stayed up with him.

"How's your shoulder?" he asked, sitting down next to her, "I didn't get it infected, did I?"

Clove scowled and shoved him away. "If I tell my brother how I got hurt..." she threatened.

"You mean you haven't told him already? You surprise me, Clover."

"If he knew, your brains would be on the other side of the clearing. And stop calling me that. My name is _Clove_, and I don't take kindly to those who forget that." she growled half-heartedly, before giving up her attempt at being intimidating and sighing, "I told them that one of the tributes from the bloodbath wasn't quite dead yet, that they managed to stab me before I could finish them off."

Peeta frowned and shook his head incredulously. "Why? Why didn't you get them to kill me?"

She shuddered from the night wind, staring into the bright full moon hanging over them like a milky orb. "Oh, you'll die, Lover Boy, don't think for a second that you won't, it's just...the girl from your district. I hate her with a passion, but I can tell you really love her. It wouldn't be right for you to die without getting to say goodbye."

He smiled with gratitude in his eyes. "Thank you. You can't begin to imagine how much that means to me."

"No need to get all emotional about it." she smirked, averting her eyes and looking at her token, "I guess I kind of owe you for not killing me, even if it _was _just because you're scared of Cato, so it would only be fair to give you a chance."

They were silent for a while, until Peeta shuffled closer to her and glanced over her shoulder. "Is that your token? A lucky clover?" he chuckled, "Now I'll never stop calling you that nickname, Clover."

"What's _your _token, then?"

He pulled a small tarnished brass key attached to a navy blue ribbon from his pocket. "My oldest brother gave it to me. Nobody's sure what it opens. If I get back to District 12, I want to find out."

"Long-term plans." she giggled, "You're in the Games and you're making long-term plans. You're totally _insane_, Lover Boy, you know that?"

Peeta smiled, lying back on the grass. "I try, Clover. I try."

* * *

"Guys!" yelled Marvel, waking the pack up with a start, "We need to get out of here, now!"

Clove leapt to her feet, staring with wide eyes at the thing that had panicked her ally so much. A huge wall of fire was bearing down on them, devouring everything in its path. She screamed, grabbed a knife and a confused Glimmer's arm and ran, turning her head every few seconds to make sure she hadn't lost her allies.

Suddenly, more flames sprang up in front of them, blocking their path. Glimmer shrieked, wheeling around to see that she and Clove where alone and trapped.

"Marvel! Cato!" she screamed, tears flowing down her pretty face, but nobody answered. The two girls held each other, waiting for the inevitable agony of being burnt alive.

"Goodbye, Glimmer." whimpered Clove, "I wish I could have known you longer."

She closed her eyes, praying for it to be quick. After a minute or two, however, she realised that she couldn't feel the oppressive heat anymore, so she decided to take a peek at the fire. She blinked and looked around in surprise. The fire was gone.

"Glimmer, we're alive! The fire's gone out!"

They squealed, bouncing across the ashy clearing, delighted to be alive.

"Cato! Marvel! Scylla! Peeta! Are you guys okay?"

They jogged through the trees, calling out for their pack members, until Glimmer pointed out something in the bushes. Clove went to investigate. When she realised what (or, rather, _who_) it was, she let out a blood-curdling screech of horror.

It was a barely-conscious Cato, covered in large red stings. Clove quickly saw the problem - a smashed tracker jacker nest lay on the floor, spilling out masses upon masses of furious golden insects. She grabbed Glimmer and Cato and ran towards the lake, feeling jabs like miniature harpoons hitting her every few steps. It was all she could do to drag the other two into the water before the world began to melt and shining rocks began to explode around her like firecrackers.

* * *

**A/N:** Of Human Bondage by W. Somerset Maugham. Remember in the description when I said the story would be different to the book? Brace yourselves, because there'll be a whole lot of that in upcoming chapters! Next chapter: hallucionations! There's a reason that I spent half a chapter on Clove's ordeal when she was little - it's likely to come up in Cato's nightmares! Fun times!


	9. 9 The Call of the Wolf

**Chapter Nine - The Call of the Wolf**

Cato squinted at his surroundings, looking desperately for any signs of his little sister. He had lost sight of her and Glimmer in the woods, when they were running from the fire...or, at least, he thought he did. As soon as he saw the tracker jacker hive hit the ground, he knew he couldn't be sure of anything.

"Clove?" he shouted, trying to see through the blurry haze that had been brought on by the stings, "Clove, where are you?"

"Cato!" she screamed, staggering into view, "Cato, help!"

He ran towards her at full pelt, stumbling over rocks and bumping into trees, still partially blinded. Finally, after what felt like hours, he reached her. "Clove! What's the matter? What's wro-"

He was cut off by a crack of gunshot. Clove keeled over, clutching her side in pain. "Run, Cato! They're coming!"

"What? Who's coming? Are you okay?"

Another shot fired, eliciting a shriek of agony from the girl. She dropped to her knees, her eyes shining with tears. "Just go, Cato! You have to get away from here or they'll kill you!"

Before he knew what was happening, a gang of Peacekeepers - no, _the _gang of Peacekeepers; the same ones that attacked Clove when they were younger - ran towards them, pushed him roughly to the ground and began brutally mutilating every part of her they could lay their hands on.

He stared with wide, round eyes at his Clove, becoming steadily more gored with every punch. He wanted desperately to attack the Capitol Peacekeepers, to get them away from her, but he couldn't move. It was almost like watching that night on video, forced to observe but unable to assist, only Clove wasn't 7 years old, she was 15. Something was wrong with this picture. She had already proven beyond a shadow of a doubt that she could kill pretty much anything with a knife. Why wasn't she stabbing them?

A shiny silver object caught Cato's eye. He grabbed it, hoping it was a weapon he could use to save his sister. Upon closer inspection, however, he realised that it was her knife. She was unarmed. What's more, it was covered in gleaming crimson blood. Cato looked more closely at where he had got the knife from. He had pulled it out of his own chest.

Clove screamed something at him, but he slipped away into blackness before she could finish her sentence.

* * *

"Clove!" he gasped, opening his eyes with a start, "It was a hallucination! It wasn't real!"

He was dismayed to find himself in a pitch-black and extremely cramped box. Did that mean that this was still a dream? Or had the tracker jackers killed him, and he was now in Hell?

About one thing he was certain: he wasn't in Heaven, because Clove wasn't with him.

He slammed his fist irritably against the ceiling, which shattered like glass into millions of shards. Once the glittering fragments had seemingly melted into the ground, he found himself sitting in one of the old caves in District 2.

"Clove?" he called, getting to his feet and looking around the sand-coloured walls. The only reply was the echo.

Suddenly, the whole quarry seemed to be alive with the sound of maniacal laughter. Cato wasn't sure why, but the sound terrified him.

"C-Clove?" he whispered, backing against the wall, "Is that you? Where are you?"

Suddenly, a small wolf-like creature with dark brown fur loped into view, limping slightly and whimpering in fear. Cato found himself transfixed by its (or, rather, _her) _large chocolate-coloured eyes, sparkling with tears. Those eyes were decidedly non-wolfish...they were Clove's. Before he could cry out to her, she yelped and toppled over, an arrow skewered into her side.

The laughter faded slightly, but didn't stop, and Katniss Everdean - the girl from 12 - bounced excitably into the stone chamber. "Hey!" she giggled, skipping towards him, "Look what I caught!"

She wrenched out the bloody arrow brandished it in his face, making a point of drawing his attention to the small rectangle of paper that had been pierced by the tip: a pressed clover.

Cato screamed insults and obscenities at her, rushing over to the wolf-girl's aid. She was taking slow, ragged breaths, her eyes wide with terror. She was dying. He glanced back up at Katniss - eager to wipe the smug grin off her face - but she had gone. In her place sat a gigantic black dragon.

Wolf-Clove growled feebly, trying desperately to escape the monstrous lizard, but a blast of flames erupted from its mouth, darkening everything once more.

* * *

Cato slowly opened his eyes, hissing under his breath from the sudden brightness of the sky. He was immensely relieved to see an anxious-looking (very much human) Clove at his side.

"Cato!" she squeaked, her eyes lighting up, "You're alive!"

He wrapped his arms around her protectively. "Are you okay? Did you get any stings?"

"I got a couple, but I got off pretty lightly. You and Marvel were totally covered - Glimmer and I weren't sure if you could make it - and Scylla and Lover Boy are...are..." she trailed off, her voice trembling.

"Dead?"

She nodded, hurriedly wiping her eyes. "Their cannons went off a couple of hours ago. I woke up about three hours before that. Glimmer recovered about half an hour after me and Marvel was only a few minutes ago. Cato, what...happened? Where did the tracker jackers come from?"

"District 12." he growled, pulling himself into a sitting position, "We were running from the fire when we realised that you and Glimmer weren't with us anymore. We were about to go back and look for you, but 12 yelled something at us from where she was sitting up a tree and dropped the nest on Lover Boy's head. He got the worst of it. I tried to get Scylla to run, but I could barely see where she was. After a while, I couldn't run any further. I was sure that all the Careers were either dead or dying..."

"But we weren't. Scylla and Lover Boy are gone but there's still four of us left. There's still a good chance that one of us will win these Games."

The four remaining Careers dragged themselves towards their almost entirely destroyed camp. They salvaged what they could and fell into uneasy sleep. It had really hit home how cruel these Games could be.

* * *

**A/N: **The Call of the Wild by Jack London. Sorry this took so long to write! I had inspiration, but it was for the wrong fandom! (speaking of which, I now have the first few chapters of a Twilight fanfic which I may or may not decide to publish)

In any case, please review! I think I managed to get the psychology behind the hallucinations close enough, but tell me if you think I should have done it differently!

RIP Scylla :'(  
Sorry about that, Annie and Finnick, but it was crucial(ish) to the plot!

Also, Team Peeta fanboys and girls, please don't kill me!


	10. 10 Clove and the Dragon

**Chapter Ten - Clove and the Dragon**

"It's horrible." whispered Glimmer, more to herself than anyone, "He told her he loved her and she just..."

It had been a few days since Peeta and Scylla had died. Nothing much had happened, save a couple of quick, unentertaining deaths. Now there were eight of them left: Marv, Glim, Cato, Clove, Scarlet, Katniss and the two from 11. Thrue and Resh? Moo and Crash? They really couldn't remember.

Marvel stroked his fiancé's hair comfortingly. "I know. If we don't get her, Karma probably will."

"Speaking of 'getting' people," Cato said, tactfully changing the subject, "Nothing's happened around here in days. If we don't go out hunting soon, the Gamemakers are going to intervene."

Clove nodded, shoving a couple of knives into the inside lining of her jacket. "Katniss will be in the woods. She's a good climber, so she'll probably be camping up in the trees. That's going to make her a difficult target, seeing as none of us can climb very well."

"The girl from 11 will be in there as well," said Glimmer, "Because she spent all her time in the Training Centre showing off on the climbing ropes. The boy ran into the fields on the other side of the Cornucopia after the Bloodbath. I think he's stayed in there this whole time - we would have noticed him if he'd come into the forest; he's difficult to miss."

Marvel considered for a moment, before adding: "That must mean there's a water source and plenty of food in there. He couldn't have hidden there for so long otherwise."

"So that's where we're headed, then?" asked Clove, standing up and putting out their fire.

The others nodded, picking up weapons and filling bags with the supplies they had managed to scavenge from their burned camp. They set off, prowling silently through the woods, until they reached the Cornucopia. They looked carefully at the tall grass, seeing if the boy from 11 was visible from this distance.

"There!" hissed Cato, pointing to a rustle of movement, a few metres away.

Clove skulked towards the disturbance, putting a finger to her lips and beckoning the others to follow. He was sitting on a boulder when she spotted him, eating a lump of meat. She aimed her knife, poised to throw it through his skull, when he turned around and gave her a sharp glare.

"I wouldn't do that, if I were you."

Clove tilted her head to one side mockingly, ever so slightly lowering her weapon. "Why ever not?"

"You're a Hell of a lot smaller than me." He got up, striding over to her side with an intimidating growl. "A lot more breakable, too."

To prove his point, he grabbed her by the throat, pulling her clean off the floor. She tried to scream, but she could barely breathe. Where had the others gone? They couldn't have gotten lost, could they?

"Now, if you stop struggling, I can make it quick. I can snap your neck in an instant. You won't feel a thing. If, however, you keep trying to fight me, I can break your spine. That would hurt. What's it to be, 2?"

She spluttered, desperately trying to yell to her allies. It was no use; she had about as much capacity for shouting as Scarlet. Slowly, she closed her eyes to keep in the tears and tried to think rationally. She'd always known she was going to die. There could only be one winner, after all, and she had nothing to live for back home. Surely it would be better to give up and die painlessly?

Or, at least, that's the conclusion she would have reached, had she not been a terrified 15-year-old. It's difficult to exercise logic when you're seconds away from a violent death. Instead, she bit his hand, forcing him to loosen his grip slightly, and screeched at the top of her lungs.

"Cato! Cato, help!"

The boy clamped a huge hand over her mouth, tightening his hold once more. "You little demon." he hissed. "If you're going to be like that, then the Capitol is going to get quite a show."

He grunted, throwing her to the floor and kicking her in the stomach. Reflexively, she curled herself up into a ball and closed her eyes. She had been in this position countless times before, back in District 2, so she managed to cope admirably. This boy, unlike such people as Awendela Chenoa, seemed to dislike weaponry, preferring to fight with his bare hands. Unfortunately for Clove, it quickly transpired that he was highly adept at fighting with his bare hands.

Clove struggled to retain consciousness, hearing everything as if it was underwater. In one last attempt to save herself, she kicked wildly at the place she assumed he was standing. Miraculously, she managed to make contact with his shin, forcing him to stop for a moment. Without wasting a second of her advantage, she pushed herself onto her knees, forcing her eyes open. A quick blow to the chest was all it took; he was felled like a tree in District 7, hitting the ground with a resounding thud, quickly followed by the boom of a cannon. She collapsed to the floor once again, exhausted and agonised. Was she to die here, then? Lost and alone, hidden in the tall grass? She could tell she was bleeding in at least two places and she suspected her arm to be broken.

Suddenly, she heard the sound of heavy footsteps and panicked voices. She felt herself being lifted gently from the ground, eliciting a quiet whimper to escape her lips.

"Shh, Clove," whispered Cato, for it was he, "It's going to be okay. You're going to be fine."

She decided to let herself believe him - for the time being, at least. Slowly, she opened her eyes. The Gamemakers had brought about evening already...or perhaps she had been fighting the 11 boy for longer than she had thought. Glimmer and Marvel were walking a few steps in front of them, clutching blood-stained weapons (arrows and a spear, respectively). They must've gotten into a fight. Not with other tributes, as they were all hidden in the woods, but something else. Mutts, perhaps?

Glimmer stopped abruptly, motioning for the others to follow suit. "Everdeen." she hissed, pointing to the trees.

Sure enough, a second later, Katniss dropped from the branches, landing on her feet just in front of the Careers. She brandished a bow that she must've got from a sponsor, flashing them a devious smirk.

Clove inwardly groaned. She recalled an old saying from her district: out of the dragon's claws, into the fire.

* * *

**A/N: **George and the Dragon by Christopher Wormell. Thresh is sort of out of character in this chapter, but, in my defence, he never really had a character outside of...scary. I didn't have a lot of source material to work with here, so I figured: what the Hell. If you get that reference, you are officially awesome. The next chapter will probably be the penultimate one, containing the climax. You may be wondering why all of District 2's folklore seems to relate to dragons. It's because dragons (like bow ties, fezzes and Stetsons) are cool. Also, dragons traditionally dwell in mountains and caves, which District 2 has a lot of. Please review and all that sort of thing!


	11. 11 What Katniss Did Next

**Chapter Eleven - What Katniss Did Next**

Clove hopped lightly out of her brother's arms, leaning against his arm for support. He shot her a look of concern, to which she responded with a tiny nod towards Katniss; it was a small enough gesture for nobody else to register, but clear enough to convey her meaning: _if it comes to a fight, you'll need your hands free._

Marvel was the first to break the silence. "What now, 12? You're going to kill all of us by yourself? You're outnumbered."

"Outnumbered?" she laughed, shaking her head. "Let's see...there are four of you...but, judging by little Miss District 2's condition, only three of you who can fight. In addition, you aren't the only ones in an alliance. Isn't that right, Rue?"

Suddenly, a tiny girl plummeted from the tree, landing in a perfect cat-like stance, ready to pounce. She glared at Marvel with more venom than a tracker jacker. "Where's Thresh? You came running from over where his camp is. What did you do to him?"

"_I _didn't do anything to Thresh." he told her, moving into a protective crouch in front of the others.

Rue gave him a look of disbelief. She opened her mouth to accuse him of lying, but was interrupted by Clove. "It was me. I stabbed him through the heart. The others weren't even there, so leave them alone."

"No!" Rue screeched, pulling a slingshot from her pocket. "How _could _you? You murderer!"

Clove rolled her eyes, holding up her favourite knife. "What are you going to do? Shriek me to death? We both know who would win _that _fight."

"Are you threatening her, District 2?" Katniss growled, raising her bow slightly.

'District 2' began to respond angrily, but Glimmer put a hand on her arm, warning her to calm down before somebody got hurt. "She's not worth it, Clove. We need to get back to camp before it gets dark."

"You're right. Let's be on our way."

They began to retreat into the forest, but stopped abruptly when the sound of a cannon echoed through the arena. Scarlet was finally at peace. There were a few seconds of silence, before the woods were suddenly filled with a cacophony of roars and growls.

"Muttations!" yelled Marvel, running towards the centre of the arena. "Go to the Cornucopia! It'll be safer in the open!"

The rest of the Career pack followed him, as did Rue and Katniss after a few seconds of deliberation. Rue trusted Marvel about as far as she could throw him, but it made sense to favour an expanse of open field over a labyrinth of trees when trying to fight something.

Katniss was at the back of the group, as the Careers had a few seconds' head start and Rue was faster than her. She could hear the mutts' pants and snarls and feel their hot, ragged breath on her back. Unable to stop herself, she looked around, to see what the monsters looked like. What she saw almost made her scream.

At first glance, you could be forgiven for thinking they were just wolves, but there was something wrong with them - their eyes. Not only were they human, but they were also disconcertingly familiar.

"Tributes!" she hissed to Rue. "The mutts are dead tributes!"

* * *

Marvel, Glimmer, Cato and Clove were already clambering onto the Cornucopia by the time Rue and Katniss got out of the woods. Katniss easily ascended the horn-shaped construction, but a mutt that resembled the girl from District 10 caught Rue's ankle before she could make it. She was dragged down, kicking and screaming, into the frenzied mass of claws and fangs. She lasted approximately ten seconds before her cannon fired.

"No! Rue!" shrieked Katniss, watching the mangled body of her former ally disappear from view underneath the vicious beasts.

Clove couldn't help but smirk slightly. Katniss Everdeen, the Girl on Fire, was finally on her own. Her sadistic glee vanished in an instant, however, when she caught sight of a round, shiny pair of eyes. There was no mistaking them: Peeta Mellark.

The sight of his mutt reminded her of the heavy, metallic thing in her pocket. She still had his key, which she had found in the woods the day after his death. He must've dropped it when he was trying to escape the tracker jackers. Maybe, before she died, she could give it to the others, with the instruction to give it to his family, so they could find out what it opened.

But first, she reminded herself, he and Scylla had to be avenged. Katniss had to die.

* * *

**A/N:** What Katy Did Next by Susan Coolidge. I apologise for taking so long to update! I had a case of chronic writer's block! Also, this is a short chapter, but I decided to save the rest for the next one which will hopefully be easier to write! Thank you to everyone who's still reading after all this time!


	12. 12 The Turn of the Shrew

**Chapter Twelve - The Turn of the Shrew**

Katniss edged away from the precipice at the mouth of the Cornucopia, clearly anxious that the mutts would find a way to climb up. They had the remaining tributes surrounded. One false move, one loss of footing would result in a gory, painful death.

Suddenly, she had a flash of divine inspiration. She loaded up her bow, aimed carefully at a spot of ground a few metres away from the grass fields and...exactly as planned, the mutts stopped their siege of the Cornucopia and ran over to investigate the arrow. Katniss leaped to the ground and ran to the trees, climbing the first one she reached.

Once she reached, she looked down to see if she had been followed. Sure enough, Clove was only a few branches away from her, knife clutched between her teeth. Before Katniss had the time to notch up another arrow, Clove was perched next to her, keeping a tight hold of the weapon which she had relocated to her hand as soon as it was free. Katniss crouched, ready to pounce and push the girl to her death, but something stopped her. There was a curious expression on Clove's face: vulnerability, shock, something that looked almost like sorrow.

"Oh. No, surely not...it can't be. Can it?"

Katniss scrunched up her nose in confusion. "What's the problem, 2?"

"This may seem like an odd question, but...how do you spell your last name?"

"E-v-e-r-d-e-e-n. Why?"

"Oh, right...Everdean, spelled d-e-a-n, is quite a common surname in your district, isn't it?"

"I guess. Yeah, it's pretty common."

"But d-e-e-n is really rare."

She nodded slowly. She was reasonably sure that her family were the only Everdeens in 12...but where was the District 2 girl going with this?

"Katniss, before you kill me, there's something you should know. You remember, in the Training Centre, when you said I didn't look like a Career? You were right. You see, before I was born, my mother worked as peacekeeper in District 12. She spent most of her time there, coming back every other weekend to see Cato, then running off again. There was a period of time, however, where she stopped coming altogether. Eventually, she quit her job and came home with an unexpected surprise for Cato and my father: me. She said that I'd been conceived the last time she visited. I was a very sickly baby; Mother didn't think I would last long, but she brought me back so that 12 wouldn't have to go to the trouble of burying me. She left me in the garden, so that my death wouldn't curse the house...District 2 is exceedingly superstitious, you understand. Had Cato not picked me up and taken me back inside, I would have died that day. Sometimes, when I look at my parents, I think they wish I had. I was about seven years old when I realised: my 'parents' weren't really related to me at all. It occurred to me after a group of peacekeepers attempted to murder me, thinking I was a runaway from your district. Suddenly, it seemed obvious that I had been born into a District 12 family and adopted by the Hrocbys. After a little bit of research, I found and old news article in the Justice Centre's database - I had to break in there to get it, but I didn't think anything I took would be missed. It was only a very short piece, obviously not deemed particularly important by whatever Capitol paper had published it. The headline read: 'DISTRICT 12 INFANT REPORTED MISSING DAYS AFTER HER BIRTH'. It said that a little new-born baby had disappeared from her cot while her parents were at work. I don't know what possessed my 'mother' to take me; perhaps I'll never know. You want to know my real name? Clover Everd-e-e-n."

A long-forgotten hazy memory occurred to Katniss. She couldn't have been any older than a year at the time. She remembered her mother showing her a tiny wriggling little creature, telling her that it was called Clover. She shook her head, in the present once more, eyes wide. "N-no! You can't be!"

"Oh, but I _am_." she half-whispered, tears welling up in her eyes. "You're the first person I've ever told; not even Cato knows." She choked out a humourless laugh, looking up at the sky. "It's ironic, really. So long, I've looked for my real family. Now I've found it, just as I'm about to die."

Katniss thought for a moment, taking in this revelation and trying to plan her next move. "No," she whispered, "It can't end like this; there's always, _always_, a way out, you just have to find it before it's too late! That's what my - our - dad always used to say. So…there are five of us left. You four aren't going to hurt each other. I'm not going to hurt my sister or any of my sister's allies. In short: we're not going to fight. There won't be a victor. Seneca Crane can't let us win - you can't have a rebellious victor - but, at the same time, he can't _not _have one; either way, Snow will have a rebellion on his hands!"

Clove laughed (for real this time) and grinned excitably. "Katniss, you're brilliant!"

"I like to think I have my moments."

Suddenly, the tree shook violently, threatening to dislodge them from their perch. The muttations were scrambling and clawing at the base of the trunk, desperate to reach them. Scylla's mutt looked directly at Clove, seemingly staring deep into her soul. The real, human Scylla used to look at everyone like that too. But that was in the past, she reminded herself, all that mattered now was ensuring the survival of her friends and siblings. No matter what, Cato was her brother and always would be. She didn't care who his parents were; to her, he would forever be the boy who loved her and cared for her unconditionally. If he wasn't family, nobody was.

* * *

**A/N: **The Turn of the Screw by Henry James. Believe me, I am just as surprised by this chapter as you are. I had no idea this was going to happen until I was typing it. This chapter is named thus because Katniss reminds me of Katherine Minola from The Taming of the Shrew and in this part of the story her motivation 'turns' from a single-minded quest to get home into a desire to stop the Games once and for all.


	13. 13 War and Pains

**Chapter Thirteen - War and Pains**

The tree shook again, almost unseating a very panicked Clove. Scylla leapt at one of the lower branches, struggling to hang on.

"Katniss, we need to get down!"

"What? But...down is where the mutts are!"

"If we fall from here, we'll be dead the second we hit the ground! Just trust me!"

Katniss deliberated for a second. _Could_ she trust this girl? She was her sister, her own flesh and blood, but they'd been trying to kill each other only a few minutes ago. Did Clove still want to avenge her dead allies? No, surely not; if that was the case, Katniss would be on the floor with a knife through her head already. "Okay, then. Let's do this."

Clove shimmied down the trunk whilst Katniss swung through the branches, until they were only a couple of branches above Scylla, who was trying to claw at their feet.

"Clove," yelled Cato, who was still standing on the Cornucopia with Glimmer and Marvel, fighting off the mutts who hadn't run to the tree, "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine. Everything is _totally - _eek_ - _under control."

She glanced upwards, looking at the sky. It must've been roughly noon, as the sun was at the top of its arc. That gave Clove an idea. "Wait there, Katniss. I've just thought of something.

Hastily, she scrambled back up the tree, until she couldn't go any higher without the ability to fly. Her knife was in her hand in an instant, aimed at the golden orb hanging in the sky, ready to be released. Three...two...one...it soared from her hand, spinning through the air, until it found its target. A direct hit. Suddenly, there was a flash of bright light, the epicentre of which was the blade protruding from the apex of the force field surrounding the arena. Blue-green waves rippled down the sides, as if it were a lake that someone had tossed a pebble into, until everything - the light, the mutts' growls, all of the Gamemakers' creations - came to an abrupt stop.

Katniss quickly joined her at the treetop. "What happened? Where are the mutts?"

"We don't have to worry about muttations anymore, Katniss. Never again will any tributes die at the hand of the Capitol."

"What? Why? What did you do?"

She grinned, climbing down to the floor, with her sister close behind her, and running over to her brother and allies. "I just started a revolution, that's what!"

Sure enough, a moment later, a huge hovercraft flew into view, stopping mid-air over the Cornucopia and dropping down five ladders. The underbelly of the vessel was emblazoned with the insignia of District 13.

* * *

**6 months later**

"The Capitol is bombing us again!" hissed Clove, as the warning siren wailed through the warren-like structure of 13. She grabbed Prim and Glimmer and ran out of the dull, grey room where the three of them had been sitting. They had to get to the bunker before the first wave hit, or they were as good as dead.

Buttercup kept close to Clove. She was one of few humans that he liked. The four of them forced their way through the tightly-packed crowd, trying to spot Marv, Cato and Katniss, who would no doubt be shepherding everyone to safety. They were natural born leaders.

"Stay close, Prim," she whispered, holding her sister to prevent the crowds from splitting them up. Glimmer took her free hand and tried not to get in anyone's way. It wasn't easy, but they eventually managed to make it to the impenetrable stronghold. They were among the last ones in, only just getting through the doors before they were slammed shut.

Cato, Kat and Marv jogged over to them, panting for breath. Glimmer always complained that all of them - Prim and Clove included - overworked themselves.

"That was _way _too close!" sighed Marvel, putting a hand on Glim's protruding midriff. They knew she was having a girl now, but they weren't sure what to call her. The middle name would be Scylla, but they wanted a traditional District 1 name first. Katniss, who still struggled not to giggle at even the most common girls' names, such as 'Silk' and 'Quicksilver', had been researching the wildflowers in 1, in the hope to find a suitable plant name for little _Something _Scylla Sparks, as they had taken to calling her. As she had said on many an occasion, botany is a never-ending supply of adorable baby names.

After roughly half an hour of explosions overhead, Glimmer suddenly felt very odd. It was probably just the Braxton Hicks - or fake-out contractions, as Mrs Everdeen had explained - again, so she decided to wait them out in the small, dirty toilets, so as not to cause a scene in the middle of the bunker (contrary to popular opinion, she loathed being the centre of attention). She stood up, nursing her bump absentmindedly.

"I'm going to go to the bathroom, Marv. I might be a while."

"Okay, love. If you need anything, give me a shout."

She nodded gratefully, carefully making her way to the bathroom. To her relief, it was empty. She leaned against the sink, staring into the mirror. _Kick. _"Yes, you're restless, baby, I know." _Lurch. _"What? What was that? I...eek! Baby, what are you doing in there?" _Ouch. _"Oh my word...this is it? This is the real thing, is it?" As if in answer to her question, she suddenly felt something gushing out from between her legs. Her water had broken. "Marvel! Help!" Unfortunately, her scream was drowned out by another bomb hitting. Oh well, medical assistance while giving birth was for Capitol sissies. Her mother had given birth to her at the bottom of an abandoned diamond mine, so why couldn't she give birth in here? She was Glimmer Aphrodite Sparks, Career, victor and rebel; she could handle this. "Come on then, baby. Let's do this thing!" As an afterthought, she added: "You really pick your moments well, don't you, honey?"

* * *

**THE END**

* * *

**A/N: **War and Peace by Leo Tolstoy. It's over! It's finally over! But...I'm working on a sequel! I have a poll on my profile to pick the name of Glim and Marv's baby, so please vote! Also, please, PLEASE review! Please? Pretty please with Marvel on top?

Thank you to everyone who's been patient with me and stayed with this story until the bitter end!


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